#so if it is incoherent i'm blaming it on my raging headache

[bisamwilson]

Sam pressing his lil frozen nose to the back of Bucky’s neck

thank you for the ask as always @samothy-wilson! ily bee <3

(ao3 link if u prefer)

xxx

Bucky’s sitting on a stool at the kitchen island in their temporary hotel suite, sipping on his black instant coffee, and flipping through a physical newspaper when he feels Sam’s arms curl around his shoulders. 

He waits for the inevitable wisecracks about how he willingly drinks sludge in the morning or about his old man newspaper tendencies as he brings one hand up to hold Sam’s. When they don’t come, he goes to turn around to tease Sam about the break from tradition, but he stops when he feels something ice cold at the back of his neck. 

“‘s so cold outside,” Sam mumbles, smushing his nose even more against Bucky’s neck. 

They both know Sam could’ve waited a few more hours to run, that the temperature would’ve risen about twenty degrees given the nature of spring, but they also both know Sam thrives best on routine. Bucky just pulls out of his embrace instead of saying anything further, putting down his coffee and turning around to drag Sam into his lap when he grumbles. 

Sam immediately presses his face into the curve of Bucky’s neck instead, his nose still ice cold. “Why did I ever live in DC? Can we go back to Delacroix yet? It’s too fucking cold to be late April.”

Bucky laughs and just hugs Sam tighter, thinking about how much he also misses their little cottage, the shared spaces he and Sam had built together, and, most importantly, their cats, currently staying with their Aunt Sarah. “Less than three days, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ve been counting.”

“That eager to get home, baby?” Sam asks, sighing contentedly when Bucky drops a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“I miss our kids,” Bucky says, pausing just long enough for Sam to let out the little puff of air from his nose that he counts as a chuckle that always follows Bucky calling their cats their children. “Besides, Carlos asked me if I wanted to go fishing with him and Tommy right before we had to leave, and I was looking forward to maybe getting something bigger than the size of my palm this time.”

“You’re homesick because you want to go fishing? Damn, Buck, we’ll make a country boy out of you yet,” Sam says, nuzzling even further into Bucky’s embrace.

Bucky shakes his head. “Your love for country music will literally never make sense to me. I promise you will not be as crazy about my farmer’s tan as that Kenny Chesney song suggests.”

“Come on, Buck. You can’t go fishing without a little Kenny in the background.” Sam goes to grab his phone, and Bucky lightly moves it out of reach before he actually plays the goddamn song.

“Tommy, Carlos, and I would all disagree.” Bucky nudges Sam’s face up and presses a kiss to Sam’s nose, now comfortably warm. “Three against one, sweetheart. You’re outnumbered.”

“Can’t mix your love life with fishing,” Sam says, shaking his head. “Always ends in betrayal.”

“I’m saving you from yourself, angel,” Bucky promises, standing up and taking Sam with him, pausing to grab his own phone and throw on a playlist of their favorite slow jams instead. 

“Where are we going?” Sam asks, as if he didn’t already know from the slow jams.

Bucky crosses the threshold into their bedroom, gently laying Sam on the bed and covering his body with his own. “I’ve got an idea of how to warm you up, assuming you’re still cold and all.”

Sam grins and brings Bucky’s face down to kiss him. He hasn’t been cold for a while now.

“I’m fucking freezing, baby.”